


All My Life

by Faithxoxo



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, I just want them to fall in love okay, Identity Reveal, Ignores most of season 3 canon, LadyNoir - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s03 Desperada, Post-Episode: s03 Gamer 2.0, Post-Episode: s03 La Marionnettiste 2 | The Puppeteer 2, adrienette - Freeform, they both love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithxoxo/pseuds/Faithxoxo
Summary: The thing Marinette is quickly realizing, is that love means more than wanting to spend every day with someone, or knowing their schedule by heart, or wanting to get married and have three kids with them.Loving someone means being able to talk to them for hours, and missing them all the time, and trusting them with your life.Her mind always goes to one person, and it isn’t Adrien.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 40
Kudos: 702





	All My Life

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished season 3 of Miraculous and can I say it was an EXPERIENCE and while I absolutely loved the way Chat Noir stepped up during the final battle and really helped Ladybug out and Ladynoir is stronger than ever (it's my favourite ship of the love square, if y'all haven't noticed yet lol) my heart was NOT READY for that ending, nor Marinette and Adrien sitting so far away from each other, nor was I PREPARED for Fu to lose his memory and make Marinette guardian like? My girl does not need more responsibility on her shoulders, can someone?? Help her please?? Chat Noir I'm looking at you buddy.
> 
> They said, "You and me against the world" again and it was AMAZING OH my Lord I was so happy the trust and love they have for one another is beautiful. 
> 
> I'm hoping for season 4 we get a bit of a reverse love square situation, not that I don't like Kagami or Luka, I love them both, but like, Adrien and Marinette are my mains and I would die for them.
> 
> Viperion is smoking though, I kinda ship him with Chat Noir (there was nothing straight about Chat winking as he pushed him into that locker during Desperada. NOTHING.)
> 
> Anyway, that's my two-cents. The wait for season 4 begins, let the fanfics start rolling. Enjoy angels, it's really long but I had a lot of feelings, I hope you like it!
> 
> Xoxo, have a happy holidays! Love you all

* * *

Her first clue, when she finally stops seeing Adrien in gold long enough to notice, is that she really loves the way Chat makes her feel.

Her maman told her once that if you’re at your best around someone, then it’s true love.

Marinette couldn’t imagine saving the world with anyone else.

Whenever she panics, even for a second, or she can’t figure out her lucky charm, or time feels like it’s moving too fast and she’s moving too slow, he’s there. He reassures her, helps her regain the confidence she knows she has, makes the world feel a little less hard, a little brighter.

She thinks if it weren’t for him, she’d have been crushed under the weight of it all.

Paris loves Ladybug. Some days, Marinette really hates Ladybug.

She feels overshadowed, paper-thin. She feels like she can’t think quick enough, or that one day she’ll fail, and the people who love her and throw parades in her honour and dedicate blogs to her will see she’s just as human as they are. Ladybug’s not invincible.

But Chat Noir makes her feel like she is.

Her first clue is after facing off against Gamer for the second time.

She watches him step off a platform, she watches him fall off a ledge, and he does it willingly without thinking. He does it with a smile on his face that reaches his eyes.

She thinks, in all the time she spent chasing Adrien, all of the kind dismissals and the gentle rejections, her heart never bled the way it did when she had to watch Chat wink out of existence, _again_.

Maybe that’s his plan, maybe he thinks if he disappears enough, makes her miss him enough, she’ll realize she can’t live without him.

Her first clue is that he’d be right. She can’t live without him.

She doesn’t tell him afterward, can’t force the words out, but she calls him that night before she falls asleep, and she listens to him talk for hours until the world goes quiet.

Half-asleep, she convinces herself that nothing exists outside the two of them. That she won’t ever have to live without him.

She wakes up the next morning after a dream where she catches him before he falls, before she loses him, and realizes that she’s never dreamed about Adrien. Not a dream that mattered that much.

“Tikki,” Marinette puts her head in her hands. “I’m screwed.”

Tikki shoots her a curious look, “You’ve just realized this now?”

Marinette proceeds to scream into her pillow for the next ten minutes.

* * *

Her next clue comes after fighting Desperada, and Marinette has never wanted to kick herself more in her _life_ , because when she thinks back on her conversation with Adrien in that sewer, she thinks there are a million things she could’ve said to him.

She put him through the wringer. He probably thinks she didn’t notice, but his cheeks were wet when he handed the Snake miraculous back to her.

She knows the look of someone who blames themselves, she blames herself for every time Chat Noir’s taken a hit meant for her.

She missed a step in the equation. She forgot the formula, the one that’s worked for her every time. Her and Chat Noir against the world.

She went up against Desperada and lost. Adrien lived the consequences of her failure 25, 913 times and still _believed in her_ afterwards. She can’t help but think, days after the battle is over, that if she ever needed proof that Chat Noir is the unstoppable force to her immovable object, she has evidence of it now.

She doesn’t tell him, because she doesn’t want his ego to get too big, but in the darkness of her bedroom with only Tikki and the moonlight filtering in through her skylight for company, Marinette can be honest with herself.

She needs him more than she’s ever needed anyone.

On bad days, where her anxiety makes her stumble and stutter and shut-down, his easy humor and his brilliant smile make her remember that she can do anything, because he’s right there beside her, and he promised her once that as long as he was breathing he’d always be by her side.

Some days, she feels so inadequate, and she doesn’t know why. She tells him this once, because he asked, in that caring way of his she sometimes feels she doesn’t deserve.

He tells her that there are days he feels too tired to get out of bed. He tells her, the lights of the Eiffel Tower illuminating the glowing green of his eyes and his legs dangling precariously off the edge, that he feels lonely all the time.

She promises she’ll never leave him; he promises he’ll never stop thinking she’s the most amazing thing in the world.

He says this easily, as easy as breathing, and her breath catches because a thought flits through her head. She stares at him and thinks _he’s beautiful_.

Her second clue is that he’s her other half, in every way there is, and there’s no version of reality where she wants to win a fight without him, listen to puns that aren’t his, risk her life for anybody else.

When they go their separate ways that night, her chest aches in a way that is glaringly empty.

She drops back into her room with less grace than usual, crawls under her covers with her transformation still on.

She stares at her walls and realizes there’s not a single picture of Adrien. She hasn’t put the posters back up in weeks.

But in her sketchbook, the one reserved for her designs, there’s a drawing of Chat Noir she doesn’t remember doing.

She thinks she’s too young to be having an existential crisis.

* * *

Her third and final clue comes after the shitshow at the Grévin Museum. After Puppeteer is done and dusted for the second time, and Manon has a lollipop curtesy of Nino and the vending machine, Marinette feels Adrien’s eyes on her the whole car ride back to her house and doesn’t feel a thing.

There’s no giddiness or nervousness or the usual butterflies. She’s just—tired. She’s emotionally exhausted and drained and she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.

But Chat Noir’s her partner, her built-in best friend, the one person she would trust with anything. She wants to talk to him.

She calls him over yo-yo, transformed, sitting on her balcony with her back to the stars. He answers, half-smiling, and suddenly she feels light enough to float away.

“I think I got my heart broken today,” She tells him.

“Give me their name, my Lady, and I promise you I’ll break something of theirs.” He vows.

She realizes she’s flattered more than she’s freaked out, “No need, chaton. I think it needed to happen. I feel—different. Freer, like I can finally move on.”

“I’m still sorry someone hurt you,” He says. “No one should ever hurt you.”

“I set myself up for it. This person, he loves someone else. I can’t be mad at him for how he feels. He was just,” She pauses, biting her lip. “He was just being honest.”

“Your feelings are important too,” He sounds so genuine, it makes her heart stop. “If he can’t see how incredible you are, that’s on him. You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“T-Thanks, chaton.” She breathes in, her throat burning. “You always make me feel like I can do anything.”

“You inspire me,” He says. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Before they hang up, she lets three words slip; three relationship-defining words, three friendship destroying words.

“Goodnight, minou.” She smiles, even though she knows he can’t see her. “I love you.”

It’s as though time freezes.

She can’t manage to _breathe_.

Not until _he says it back_.

“Goodnight, my Lady.” He hesitates for a half-second. “I love you so much.”

The line goes dead.

Her third clue is that the entire time she was waxing poetry to Adrien’s statue—at least, she thought it was his statue—she never said those three words.

She can’t imagine saying them to him now.

But when she calls Chat Noir the next night, and the night after that, and the night after, she says it to him.

They end every call with _I love you_.

“Tikki,” Marinette says, half-way to a full-blown panic attack. “What if Chat Noir is _not_ just a friend?”

Tikki looks her dead in the eyes, “ _Oh. No_. Really? Gosh, imagine that.”

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Marinette puts a plan into effect.

Operation _Romance Chat Noir_ is a go, and she starts pulling out all the stops. She knows the way to his heart; _pastries_.

She brings hot chocolate and fresh croissants to their bi-weekly patrols, she knows croissants are his favorite, and she baked them herself fresh that morning.

They sit together, in a corner they carved for themselves on top of the Arc de Triomphe, under the glow of the stars and the streetlights. They sip hot chocolate and she watches him try to lick jam off his nose, and she learns things about her partner that she didn’t know before.

He likes his hot chocolate with cinnamon. He’s a coffee addict like she is, has an unbelievably busy schedule, and never gets time for himself. He loves stargazing, points out a dozen constellations to her as they lie side-by-side and watch the sky.

He tells her, “Sometimes, I really wish I knew your name.”

She chokes up, wishes she could tell him how badly she wants to know his name too. “Why?” She manages to get out.

Her grins at her in that effortless way of his, “So that I could name a star after you.”

He’s a hopeless romantic. He’s said so many things over the two years they’ve known each other and worked together that’s made her blush or smile. He compliments her as though he’ll never run out of nice things to say about her.

He’s flirted with her a thousand times.

But her heart has never _stopped_ like this before.

There have been moments where she was tempted to tell him who she was, but she’s never wanted it this badly.

She thinks of Tikki’s warning, of the horrible things Hawkmoth could do if he found out, of the danger she would be putting everyone she loves in if she took off the mask right now.

Sometimes, Marinette really wishes she could be selfish.

“I’ve got to keep some of my mystery,” She tells him, but it’s hard to speak around the lump in her throat. “But if you want to name a star after Ladybug, you have my permission. I’ll name one after you too.”

They spend the next twenty minutes picking out stars for each other. He tells her she outshines every star in the sky, and she laughs, because that’s the cheesiness she expects of him.

She doesn’t know when she started loving every little thing about him.

He looks at her like she hung the moon.

Before they both have to leave, she snags his wrist, freezing for a half-second because she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“My name,” She says, the words spilling out before she can regret saying them. “It starts with an M.”

She pulls him into a hug, lightning fast before she can talk herself out of it, and then she runs like an akuma’s after her.

“I’d say my plan’s going pretty well,” Marinette confides in Tikki when she lands on her balcony and detransforms.

Tikki blinks owlishly, “Your plan to seduce him?”

“Which other plan is there?” Marinette asks.

“For the record, I want you to know I think this is a terrible idea,” Tikki says, in that irrefutable way of hers Marinette hates.

“I stalked Adrien and stole his phone once but me trying to seduce Chat is where you draw the line?” Marinette crosses her arms.

“Yes,” Tikki deadpans. “I have to start putting my foot down somewhere.”

“You don’t have feet,” Marinette points out.

Tikki gives her the cold shoulder for the rest of the night.

* * *

They don’t see each other again until an Akuma sets fire to the Eiffel Tower.

Le Pyromane is upset because a group of teenagers set fire to her lawn, burning her flowers and her garden. Marinette can understand her anger, if someone destroyed something precious to her she would open a can of whoop-ass on them too.

However, Ladybug has to remain impartial. The Akuma’s set off a string of fires across Paris, the damage caused has been _catastrophic_ , according to Chat Noir. He was on the scene before her, because she got caught up babysitting Manon and couldn’t leave the girl alone until Nadja picked her up.

She meets up with him near the Seine, and they track the Akuma to the Eiffel, where Le Pyromane has created a moat of lava around the Tower and is holding a bus full of people hostage.

“Let them go!” Ladybug yells at the Akuma, praying for the butterfly symbol to pop up so she knows she has an audience with Hawkmoth. She’s liable to flip him off, she’s so furious. This is one of the worst Akumas she and Chat Noir have faced in a while, she almost misses going up against Mr. Pigeon.

“It’s us you want, there’s no reason to endanger others.” She uses her yo-yo as a shield as a ball of fire come hurtling at her, swinging out of the way to land at the edge of the lava moat. Chat Noir is a step behind her.

“You want our miraculous, come and get it!” She glares at the Akuma, Hawkmoth is still radio-silent.

“What my Lady said,” Chat Noir interjects. “Your plan is going to _backfire_ , so you might as well give up now!”

A new development Ladybug is not happy about is how her heart flutters whenever he makes a pun, he makes _so many_ of them, and it’s making it hard to concentrate. She needs to get her head in the game.

Another fire ball comes hurtling at them. Ladybug dodges, looking around for anything that might help her get the hostages away from the Akuma. It’s priority number one.

She comes up with a plan, as half-baked as all of her others usually are, and waves to grab Chat Noir’s attention.

She doesn’t even have to tell him; he already knows what she’s thinking.

“I’ll draw her _fire_ ,” Chat Noir grins. “Distract her with my _smouldering_ charm.”

“Just don’t get her too _fired_ up,” Ladybug advises, winking at him. She regrets it immediately, because whenever she gives him an inch, he takes a mile.

His eyes go wide and sunny, “My Lady has blessed me on this day.”

Her traitorous heart skips a beat. She wishes her feelings would shut up.

They tag-team the Akuma in the way that always works for them, Chat Noir does his thing, helps her as long as he can, keeps the Akuma focused on him, and Ladybug swings across the moat while the Akuma’s distracted and gets the hostages away from the scene.

“You’re amazing Ladybug!”

“Thank you, Ladybug!”

“I knew you’d save us, Ladybug!”

Ladybug frowns slightly, “ _Chat Noir_ and I do our best,” She says, stressing his name. “All of you get to safety please, and thank you for your support and faith is us.”

She doubles back as quick as she can, she hates leaving her chaton to face Akumas alone, even though she knows he can more than handle himself.

She tosses her yo-yo, snags one of the Akuma’s massive flaming arms and propels herself forward, landing a kick to its side. The Akuma screams and goes reeling.

“It’s just you and us now, Pyro.” Ladybug says, eyes instinctively roaming the scene for Chat Noir. She catches sight of him at the top of the Eiffel, where Pyromane’s flames haven’t reached yet, and she launches herself into the air to join him.

“Good distraction, chaton,” She shoots him a smile as she lands beside him. “Any idea where the akuma might be?”

“I think it’s in the flower pin on her sleeve,” Chat points, and Ladybug follows his gaze. She spies the object, an inky black plastic rose, pinned on the Akuma’s left sleeve.

“Good eye,” She says. Her brain starts working overtime to figure out how to swipe it. “We’ll have to get in close to— _watch out_!”

Le Pyromane swipes at the landing, and Ladybug springs up just in time to avoid the cement crumbling beneath her, having caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Flames lick at her heels as she leaps sideways just in time, yo-yo wrapping around a lamppost, she swings out of the Akuma’s reach.

Chat yelps and jumps, but he moves a millisecond too late.

He gets backhanded into a brick wall, and Ladybug hopes it’s her imagination, but she hears a sickening _crack_ upon impact.

She screams his name, throat burning. She grits her teeth and slams into the Akuma violently, harder than she should’ve, knocking Le Pyromane to the ground. The street shakes; there’s a rage-filled howl. Ladybug _doesn’t care_.

“Chat,” She says his name again, hands trembling as she drops beside him. He’s unmoving, blond hair matted with red, Ladybug prays his injury looks worse than it really is. The two of them are near invincible in their suits, but head trauma is a tricky thing, she’s never had to use miraculous cure to heal a concussion.

“Chaton,” She tries again, shaking him gently. “Say something. Talk to me.”

She hears a low groan, “ _Meowch_.” He hisses, “I think I added a little too much fuel to her fire.” He makes to get up, only to lose his balance because his legs are shaking too fiercely. She has to hold him up, his head lulling on her shoulder after she wraps one of his arms around her waist.

Ladybug’s always felt protective of him, the same way he is of her, but there’s a thundering in her chest that’s making her angrier than she’s ever been, and she has to remind herself that the Akuma victim doesn’t deserve her fury. She’s got enough anger to level Paris, and one day, when she and Chat Noir find Hawkmoth, he’s going to feel all of it.

For now, Ladybug has to compartmentalize.

She knows her focus should be on the Akuma, on containing the damage as much as possible, but Chat is leaning on her so heavily she can’t think of anything but him. Her anger is quickly turning to terror, his green eyes are hazy and clouded when she looks into them.

He definitely has a concussion. Does the cure heal that? She’s never asked Tikki what the extent of her healing ability is, although she makes a note to ask about it the minute the fight’s over.

Chat doesn’t look like he can handle a fight, but she needs his reassuring presence by her side and his cataclysm. If it were Gigantitan or Mr. Pigeon she could manage by herself, though she’d probably worry about him the entire time, but Le Pyromane is whole new league of Akuma. She can’t remember the last time she saw one so destructive.

Ladybug doesn’t like to admit when she’s at a disadvantage, but right now, Hawkmoth has her on the ropes and he knows it. She _needs_ her partner.

But she needs him at his best, and maybe she could find another way, and maybe this is selfish and dangerous of her, but she can’t see another alternative.

She summons her lucky charm, doesn’t even bother to try and use it before she throws it skyward, calling out as loud as she can, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The lava moat, the flames drowning the Eiffel Tower, the collapsed buildings and dilapidated streets and the smoke and ash clouding the sky—it all disappears. Ladybug hopes with everything she has that the people of Paris don’t see the swarm of ladybugs and assume the battle’s been won. Le Pyromane’s moving away from where Ladybug struck her, sending blazing waves of fire into the sky. She hears the Akuma shouting her name.

She hears the first warning beep of her earrings.

Chat Noir straightens in her arms, some of his weight leaving her side. She cups his cheek and turns his head towards her, relief flooding her when she sees his eyes are clear and sharp, focused and fever-bright.

“My Lady,” He glances around them, one of his hands drifting to the back of his head. “What did—” He tenses up, his hand coming back clean of blood. “What did you do?”

Her miraculous is screaming at her, another warning beep, and yet she can’t bring herself to move or let go of him.

“Are you okay?” She whispers, careful to keep her voice quiet. She’s reluctant to put even an inch of distance between them, and despite how uncomfortably close they are, he hasn’t moved away either.

“I’m fine, I’m okay, you—” He hesitates, “You used the cure.”

“You couldn’t fight,” She hurries to say, and she’s never been nervous around him before, but she’s also never been so aware of his proximity to her before. She wants to drag him even closer. “I needed you to—”

Her brain short-circuits, and her nerves are shot, and she was _so worried_ about him she _couldn’t think—_

She settles on, “I just needed you.”

He’s always looked at her in a mixture of admiration and respect, but somehow, it feels different, the way he’s looking at her now.

“Thank you for healing me, my Lady.” His voice is soft, as soft as his eyes. “I would have done the same, if it had been you. I would’ve done it without thinking, but what do we do now? You’re going to transform back—”

The words _so what_ flit through her mind, and it’s like being dumped in freezing ice water, because for the first time since Hibou Noir locked them in that crate together, their miraculouses counting down, Ladybug realizes she wouldn’t mind it if he found out.

She almost tells him, managing to stop herself at the last second. It’s too dangerous, Hawkmoth is too dangerous.

“My Kwami needs sweets to recharge,” She says instead, “I have some in my purse, I just need to find a spot to detransform—”

There’s the sound of bloodcurdling screams, car alarms going off, the entirety of Paris _shakes_ with the force of it. Above it all, all Ladybug can hear is Hawkmoth.

She’s still so angry, but it’ll have to wait.

She drops her hand from Chat Noir’s cheek, turns to propel herself onto the nearest rooftop, hoping she can duck behind a chimney and find a corner where Tikki can refuel and she can come up with a plan.

He snags her wrist, his claws biting into her skin. It should be painful, but he’s always been exceedingly gentle with her.

She sends him a questioning look.

“I’ll wait out the recharge with you,” He says, and her breath catches, because they’ve never done that before. Then again, she’s never wasted her lucky charm or her cure to heal him before.

“The Akuma could be hurting people,” Ladybug reasons, but she makes no move to brush him off, even though she knows she could. “One of us should stay, to try and minimize the damage.”

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, and that, that’s the million-dollar question.

She realizes that she despises the idea of leaving him alone, separating is always what gets them into trouble; there’s bucket loads of evidence to back this up.

She should lie and say yes, she should put Paris first. They are heroes, first and foremost.

No, that’s wrong.

They’re partners, first and foremost.

“No,” She says, and being honest has never felt so good. “You’re right, we shouldn’t split up. I don’t…” She bites her lip, staring at where he’s still clutching her wrist, instead of meeting his eyes. “I don’t really feel like being alone right now.”

“Me neither,” Chat agrees. The two of them are always on the same wavelength. He clears his throat, “Where’s a good spot for you to detransform?”

She only has a minute left.

They race across a handful of rooftops, too out in the open for her to risk it, before she spies an apartment building with a hulking brick chimney and changes directions. She ducks behind it with three seconds to spare.

Tikki comes spiraling out of the earrings. Marinette riffles through her purse for one of her emergency cookies.

She lets Tikki rest on her shoulder and rubs her head gently as the Kwami recharges.

“My Lady?” Chat Noir’s voice is stilted, he’s standing just on the other side of the chimney. “Everything alright?”

It’s comforting, having him so close. She feels adrift, out of her element, but he’s always been the one constant she can count on.

“Everything’s fine, chaton.” She watches the sky turn grey, watches as smoke blacks out the sun, as ashes fall like snowflakes. “Just trying to come up with a way to save the city from imminent disaster. No big deal, another regular Tuesday.”

He laughs freely, as though the weight of the world isn’t on both their shoulders, and says sunnily, “Two heads are better than one. This isn’t our first _firefight_ , my Lady.”

He’s right, it isn’t.

They’ve survived worse, they’ve survived a city full of Akumas chasing them. They’ll survive this too.

“Your enthusiasm is _inspyreing,_ kitty.” She says, wishing she had half the easy confidence he had. Everything seems to come so easily to him.

“I believe in the two of us,” He says, and he sounds so earnest and genuine her heart stutters. She wants—

She wants so badly to kiss him.

But she’s not Ladybug right now, and Paris needs Ladybug _right now_.

“I believe in us too,” Marinette says quietly, for Chat’s ears only. She wants to say more, but Tikki nudges her then, having finished her cookie, and she has to put her feelings on hold.

After the fight is over, and the Akuma’s been purified, and she and Chat are banged up and exhausted but no worse for wear than they usually are; Marinette decides she is _done_ putting her feelings on hold.

Chat goes in for a fist-bump, bright-eyed and tired all at once. His miraculous is down to one pawprint. Ladybug meets him halfway, pulling him into a hug before she can talk herself out of it. He goes still for half a second, and then he melts into the hug.

She brings her lips to his ear, “Until next time, my kitty.” She closes her eyes, wishes she could stay here with him for longer, but she’s down to her last spot.

“The second letter of my name,” She tells him, “Is A.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek, lightning-quick, and then she runs.

* * *

It doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone in Paris that Ladybug used her cure twice during the fight with Pyromane.

Marinette doesn’t check the Ladyblog often, only when Alya asks her personally, but she’s bored and her homework is finished for once and she’s curious to see if anyone is talking about the latest Akuma.

She stumbles upon a grainy image of herself from the battle, Chat Noir slumped against her, his eyes closed. She looks panicked in the picture, the fear on her face clear as day. Even with the poor quality, it’s obvious that she’s looking at him.

Under the picture, people are theorizing that she used her cure the first time to heal him, seeing as underneath the post there’s another image from later in the fight, where she and Chat are facing off against Pyromane.

Marinette freezes with her hand on the computer mouse.

The comment section is divided, some people are saying Ladybug wouldn’t waste her cure without having beat the Akuma first, while the other half is on-board with the theory that she and Chat are madly in love and she couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

Not even a month ago, she would’ve scoffed at the ridiculousness of it, the idea of her and Chat Noir being madly in love. Now, she can’t even say their theory is wrong because _she did_ use her cure to heal him. She couldn’t focus on the fight knowing he was so badly hurt; couldn’t function.

“Tikki, was it irresponsible of me to waste my lucky charm like that?” Marinette glances at her Kwami, perched on her desk lamp.

“It was incredibly irresponsible of you,” Tikki replies unhelpfully. “Thank you for reminding me how disappointed I am in you, I almost forgot.”

Tikki rants to her about how disappointed she is for the next two hours.

* * *

Most days, Marinette walks through life half-asleep.

She gets paired with Adrien for a project in Bustier’s class, and Alya has to elbow her eight times before Marinette forces her eyes open and props her head up on her desk.

“What?” She demands.

“How are you so sleep-deprived you slept through Madame Bustier pairing you with Adrien?” Alya shakes her head incredulously. “I thought that would have woken you up.”

“Adrien?” Marinette stares at the back of his head. They haven’t talked since the Grévin Museum and she’s not dying to have that conversation anytime soon. “Wow. Um, that’s cool, I guess.” She lays her head back on her desk. “Wake me up when I actually need to start paying attention.”

“ _What_? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Alya whisper-yells. “The way you’re acting it’s like you haven’t had the most colossal crush on him for the past two years.”

Summoning her inner Chat Noir, Marinette says, “My crush got crushed.”

“What does _that_ mean? Do you not like him anymore?”

Marinette does not have the mental capacity to endure this conversation.

“Alya, shh,” Marinette mutters, “I’m dying. Let me die in peace.”

Of course, Alya ignores her and gives her the third degree for the rest of the class.

Marinette comes to the realization that her life is reaching extraordinary levels of sad when an Akuma attack is the highlight of her day.

She ditches working on the project with Adrien because she wants to get on the scene as quick as possible. This has a lot to do with avoiding the inevitable awkwardness that will surely be between them because she _made out with him thinking it was his wax statue for gosh sakes_ and a lot more to do with getting to see Chat Noir.

“Why are you running _towards_ the Akuma?” Adrien shouts at her. He looks as though he’s going to have an aneurysm.

“I want to yell at Hawkmoth about how hideous his Akumas’ outfits are,” She replies, and it’s not even a lie really, because Hawkmoth should be sentenced to life in prison for his crimes against fashion _alone_.

“That’s crazy,” Adrien looks flabbergasted. “Calling out Hawkmoth’s horrible fashion sense isn’t worth your life!”

Marinette is offended, “What do you _mean_? I’m a _designer_ , of course it is! Did you _see_ Bubbler?”

She manages to give Adrien the slip when she ducks down a stairwell and into a janitor’s closet, although it’s harder to shake him than she thought it would be.

“All of a sudden, he chooses _now_ to start paying attention to me” Marinette complains to Tikki. “I swear, the nerve.”

“We’ve been together for two years now Marinette,” Tikki says, “And every day I understand you less and less.”

She transforms and locates the Akuma easily, a student was sad about having failed a math test and is now trapping people in textbooks, specifically targeting teachers.

“I am the Grader,” The Akuma cackles evilly.

“And I am not impressed,” Ladybug retorts. The Grader is a huge step down from Le Pyromane, and she could probably handle him by herself, but she waits for Chat Noir to show up anyway.

“Sorry I’m late, my Lady!” Chat Noir appears at her side, almost out of thin air. He must’ve been in the area. “I got held up in traffic,” He throws a wink in her direction. “How _degrading_.”

Her heart does somersaults in her chest. She’s unbelievably happy to see him, realizes that the reason she’s felt so miserable all day is because she missed him. She feels so lonely when a week passes and they don’t get to see each other. He’s the only other person who could possibly understand how stressed she is all the time.

“You’re here now,” Ladybug sends him a smile. “This fight shouldn’t take long; I think I already have an idea of where his akuma is!”

Of course, everything goes to hell the minute the words leave her mouth.

Marinette is starting to think she’s the butt of some cosmic joke.

She and Chat Noir have Grader cornered on the third floor, the hallways and classrooms empty, whatever students haven’t been evacuated are in the courtyard. Ladybug hasn’t even had to use her lucky charm yet, and she’s got the akumatized object in her sights, when a giant razor-edged paper mâché monster materializes in front of her, taking shape and mutating until it’s a hulking twenty-feet tall.

The sentimonster puts itself between her and Grader. Somewhere, she thinks she hears Chat Noir call her name.

And suddenly, nothing is funny anymore.

“Papercut,” Grader commands the sentimonster, “Make them feel the pain of a thousand cuts.”

The purple butterfly symbol appears, and it’s like it’s mocking her; Hawkmoth is _mocking_ her.

Ladybug dodges a shower of paper missiles, glancing over her shoulder to call out a warning to the students still huddled in the courtyard, and the damage makes her blood run cold.

Her heart stops beating, time feels like it’s slowing down.

The student the sentimonster hit—the hit meant for _her_ —is lying on the ground, in a puddle of his own blood. He’s covered in a thousand jagged cuts, blood leaking from his eyes, his ears, his mouth.

The world goes absolutely quiet, and then, everything explodes.

The students still waiting to be evacuated, her peers who trust her to protect them with her life, stare at the mutilated body of their classmate and start _screaming_.

Above it all, she hears Chat Noir. She wonders how long he’s been shouting her name.

Above it all, she hears the Akuma laughing.

Something in her snaps.

Ladybug springs forward with a burst of speed, taking the sentimonster by surprise. She barrels into its chest, ignoring the danger, not caring whether she gets hit. She can’t remember the last time she was this livid.

The monster goes reeling, she’s lost sight of the Akuma and her partner, College Francois-Dupont is in shambles.

She should evacuate the students who are left. She should signal the police to form a barricade around the College.

She doesn’t do either of those things. Her mind is full of static, her thoughts are disjointed. She’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Her ears are ringing, she can’t hear—

She can’t hear Chat anymore.

Ladybug takes off running.

Last she saw him; he was drawing Grader’s fire while she worked out how to snag the darkened gold star badge pinned to his sleeve. She lost him after Papercut appeared.

“Chat Noir!” She calls out. Grader and Papercut are on her tail, firing blast after blast. She narrowly avoids getting struck twice; she doesn’t look back.

She’s going out of her mind with worry.

In her periphery, she catches a flash of blond hair and black leather ducking behind a row of lockers.

Ladybug leads the Akuma and the sentimonster on a wild goose chase until she loses them between the second and third floor landing, doubling back to where she saw Chat only when she’s sure they’re no longer chasing her.

“Chaton,” She fights to keep her voice low. She hears his sharp inhale and feels a tidal wave of relief; he’s conscious. He’s conscious and he’s not hurt.

“My Lady,” He pulls her down next to him behind the dented lockers. His grip on her wrist is familiar, reassuring. “Did you see where Grader went?”

“I managed to lose him and Papercut on the second floor,” She explains. He looks worried, eyes boring into hers, and she has to look away. She thinks she could drown in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” He says apologetically. His expression makes it hard on her, in that way that causes her heart to constrict and her chest to tighten. He’s visibly upset, the both of them are too young to carry this sort of responsibility.

She shakes her head, knowing he would never leave her on purpose. “It’s not your fault we got separated.”

“I hate knowing you were alone,” He sounds wrecked, as though it physically pained him to be away from her. “I hate leaving you.”

Her breathing stutters, and suddenly, they’re not talking about the battle at all.

“Minou—” She starts, but the words don’t come quick enough. The floor drops out from below them.

They go crashing two stories to the hard ground of the courtyard, gravel digging into her side as she lands roughly, rubble and dust kicking up around them. The College looks like a war-zone, like a bomb went off.

Her vision swims for a couple of seconds, she’s reaching for Chat before she even registers moving. “ _Chaton_ ,” Ladybug lifts her head weakly, pain licking up her entire right side where she hit the pavement. “Chat, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” He groans, reaching out with his hand to clasp hers. She crawls over to him, her knees aching. As soon as she’s within arm’s reach, he cups her chin tenderly with his free hand.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” He asks, with an undercurrent of urgency.

Sometimes, she hates him for valuing her life so much more than his own, but she never means it, couldn’t fathom ever truly hating him.

“I’m okay,” Ladybug reassures him. She goes to check him over for injuries when her senses start screaming at her to _move_.

A car is hurtling at her head.

She yelps, hoists Chat Noir over her shoulder, and manages to dodge by the skin of her teeth.

She and Chat Noir take cover behind the car, both of them breathing hard, neither of them knowing what the fuck to do.

It’s raining paper missiles, Grader is raving about how he’s taken hostages and will only set them free if they give up their miraculous, the sentimonster is breathing down their neck.

Ladybug is supposed to be able to fix everything, but Marinette’s never felt less like a hero.

She peeks around the edge of the car, using her yo-yo as a spyglass. The sentimonster is blocking her path to the Akuma, there’s no way around it, no distraction to draw its attention away.

If she times it right, calculates it just right, she could propel herself off the monster’s back and catch Grader off-guard. He wouldn’t see her coming, the sentimonster would shield her from view.

But that would mean putting herself directly in the Amok’s line of fire, and even with Chat Noir providing cover and watching her back, she would still have to go through Papercut.

There’s no version of this that doesn’t end bloody.

She turns to her partner, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She opens her mouth to let him in on her plan and ask for his input—

The frighteningly blank look on his face stops her cold.

“Chaton—” She hesitates, suddenly more afraid than she’s been in a long time. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we have one shot at Grader,” His eyes are shining, and that’s when it hits her, the reason she’s so afraid. His expression, it’s the same one he had right before he walked off Gamer’s platform.

The smile he sent her as he jumped and left her standing there, stuck watching him fall, stuck reliving that moment over and over. He’s wearing that same smile now.

Marinette’s never had a nervous breakdown during an Akuma attack before, but she thinks she might have one now.

“I’m thinking that every time it comes down to the two of us, there’s never really a choice. Not for me.” He lets go of her hand, slowly, in increments. As though it’s hard on him, letting go of her. She doesn’t register it, she feels disconnected from her body, from reality. All she sees is him moving away, and she doesn’t understand _why_ , because he’s always the one who says the world ends the minute they split up.

“You’ll save the day. You’ll put things right, you always do.” He extends his baton, and that’s all the warning she has. His eyes are imploring her to understand, there’s not a trace of fear in them. “You have to let me take the hits, my Lady. My whole reason for existing is you.”

And then he’s gone.

Her world fractures down the middle.

Someone is screaming. Distantly, she realizes it’s her. She can’t do anything but shout his name, over and over. Her reckless kitten, with his habit of throwing his life away like it doesn’t matter—

He matters more to her than she can put into words.

And that’s why she understands, as horrifying and sickening as it is, she _gets_ it. The way he so carelessly disregards his own safety, because she would do it for him, too.

Ladybug shores up whatever courage she has left, feels her resolve strengthen and her adrenaline skyrocket.

She darts out from behind the car, throws herself in front of the sentimonster with a fearlessness that should scare her, but her blood is pumping and her heart is a dead weight in her chest and she refuses to let Chat Noir sacrifice himself in vain.

When the barrage comes, she’s ready for it. She’s mentally prepared herself; she knows what’s coming next.

But something in her still withers and dies when Chat Noir jumps in front of her.

She hears him cry out in pain, her eyes watering and her lip quivering, but she doesn’t look at him. She can’t.

Her timing is perfect, her calculations flawless. She uses the sentimonster as leverage to launch herself at Grader, and he doesn’t see her coming until it’s too late; his expression a mixture of outrage and shock.

She aims a vicious kick to the side of the Akuma’s head, tells herself he won’t even feel it after she casts her cure, but guilt still eats at her afterward for directing her anger at someone who doesn’t deserve it.

She de-evilizes the butterfly with none of her usual fanfare, not stopping for a second before sprinting across the courtyard to where Chat Noir lays crumpled on the ground.

Ladybug drops to her knees beside him. He’s limp as a ragdoll, boneless and caved in on himself, jagged cuts marring his face. She pulls him onto her lap, wincing at how inflamed the cuts are up-close. Terror seizes her when she realizes his chest isn’t moving.

His leather suit is soaked through with blood, his skin is unnaturally ashy and pale.

He’s bleeding out in her arms.

The sentimonster lets out a thundering roar. She hears the sound of shattering glass and crumbling cement; the building is collapsing around them. She has no clue where the sentimonster’s Amok is. There are students the Akuma took hostage that she hasn’t saved yet. The battle’s not even close to being over.

 _Chat Noir is bleeding out in her arms_.

She doesn’t even think twice.

 _Screw_ responsibility.

“Lucky charm!” She calls out, and then, a second later, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Several things happen all at once; Chat Noir’s eyelids flutter and he wrenches forward, body trembling like a leaf. His chest heaves, he coughs and sputters and takes deep laboured breaths. His eyes are wide and watery, luminescent green and filled with panic.

Ladybug only realizes she’s crying when it becomes hard to breathe.

“Ladybug,” Chat starts, wrapping his arms around her, so tightly she can feel his heartbeat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did,” She admits, half-choked. She squeezes him back just as tightly.

Students begin spilling into the courtyard, abandoning their hiding places, probably having seen the swarm of ladybugs and assuming the danger had passed. She hears cheering, and someone chanting her name and before she can warn them—

The sentimonster gives an inhuman growl, animalistic and vicious in its intensity. There’s a dead zone as the implications set in, and then chaos erupts.

“Wait, I thought Ladybug used her cure!”

“Why is the sentimonster still here?”

“She captured the Akuma, didn’t she? What happened?”

“Is Chat Noir okay? Why is Ladybug crying?”

“Ladybug, _help us_!”

Her miraculous beeps. Her schoolmates are screaming and begging and crying. There’s rivers of red staining the courtyard, everything her cure fixed is undone. She’s _failing_ , she’s failing all of them.

But Chat Noir is looking at her like she’s the sun his world revolves around. His hands are warm and comforting where they’re touching her.

There’s no fight the two of them can’t win together.

“There’s a janitor’s closet on the second floor,” She says, getting to her feet. “I’ll detransform and recharge my Kwami there.”

She extends her hand to help him up, he takes it and doesn’t let go.

“I’ll come with you,” He replies. Neither of them suggests splitting up, it’s unthinkable to them now, as unthinkable as giving up their miraculous. “We can start brainstorming a plan while we wait. I saw a gold star sticker on the sentimonster’s head, I think the amok might be there.”

“How _furrtunate_ for us,” Ladybug says, and despite the fact that the battle is nowhere near over and panic is still clawing at her heart and she knows she’ll have nightmares tonight, she feels herself smile. “We better hurry, it’d be pretty _tearable_ if I detransform in front of all these people.”

“It’d be _catastrophic_ ,” Chat says reverently, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of the way he looks at her.

She recharges, he waits it out with her, they plan and talk and she tells him if he ever terrifies her like that again she’ll drop-kick him from the College all the way to the Eiffel Tower.

She asks him to promise her. He says he can’t.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack at fourteen,” Ladybug scolds him. She’s been getting better at letting herself be vulnerable around him. “You can’t keep putting me through this, chaton. I can’t—I’m not strong enough.”

His breath hitches, he’s just outside the janitor’s closet, leaning against the door. “You’re the strongest person I know,” He says, all earnestness and easy honesty, and her heart stops for the tenth time that day.

By the time they finally defeat Papercut, and Ladybug cleanses the Amok, she’s ready to sleep for a month. She’s ready to start going to therapy.

After she casts her cure for the second time, they both just stand there, neither of them wanting to leave. He pulls her into a hug fiercer than her papa’s, as though he’s scared she’ll disappear. Ladybug is always the one to part ways first, but she’s still buzzing and uncomfortable in her own skin, her thoughts scattered and dark. She doesn’t think she can handle being alone, nevertheless sit through the rest of the school day.

She doesn’t want to let him out of her sight.

His ring begins counting down, and the decision is taken away from her.

“You have to go,” She presses a light kiss to his cheek, forces herself to put some distance between them. “Goodbye, chaton.”

“Wait,” He clutches her wrist, his tone pleading. “My Lady, I—” He stops, his expression pained. He looks like he’s searching her face for something. He must find what he’s looking for, because he leans in all of a sudden, breath ghosting her cheek, “What’s the third letter of your name?”

She tells him without thinking, without considering all of the reasons this could come back to haunt them later.

“R,” She says. “M-A-R.” His ring beeps again, and she forces herself to take a step back, her hands feeling empty without his to hold. “Try and find me, chaton.” She hesitates, then adds, “I love you.”

She runs.

She’s getting good at running.

* * *

She avoids the Ladyblog like the plague for a whole month.

Coincidentally, there’s not another Akuma attack for a whole month.

Once upon a time, Marinette would have been thrilled. Now, it’s like the world’s gone dull and muted.

She decides the only thing worse than loving someone she knows will never love her back is loving someone she knows loves her back but they can never say it.

She doesn’t even know his _name_.

“Thinking about Adrien?” Tikki asks her as she’s doing stitchwork on a jacket someone commissioned.

“No, Chat Noir.” She stabs herself with the sharp end of her sewing needle. “Is it normal to miss him all the time?”

“Yes,” Tikki says, and she sounds like she’s talking from experience.

Marinette manages to stab herself with the sewing needle sixteen times in thirty minutes.

* * *

Twenty-eight days into the loneliest month of her life, Marinette invites Adrien to her house to finalize their project for Bustier’s class.

The more time she spends with him, the more she realizes that he’s a fun person to talk to, when she isn’t waxing poetry about his lips or his eyelashes.

They don’t talk about what happened at the Grévin Museum, nor the fact that she hasn’t spoken a word to him since then. It’s not like he tried to approach her either, and Marinette prides herself on being super approachable. She’s not _scary_.

The way Adrien keeps throwing glances around her room and trying to make himself as small as possible, it’s like _he_ thinks she’s scary, and she is not having it.

She waits until they finish the write-up of their project and the slideshow presentation that will accompany it. She prints out two copies, one for them to practice with and one to hand in to Bustier. Her hand brushes his when she hands him the extra—and he jumps backwards, nearly out of his chair.

“Okay,” She says, leveling him with a look. “I think we have some things to talk about.”

“What things? There’s no things! What things are you talking about?” He laughs awkwardly, and she wants to face-palm because this is how she used to act around him, and she doesn’t know how he put up with it for so long. She’s feeling heavy second-hand embarrassment.

She’s gentle with him though, seeing as she’s the one who made things awkward. This whole mess feels pointless to her now, because she’s ninety-nine percent sure her romantic feelings for him have faded.

They’re not gone, she can’t just fall out of love with him in the span of a few months, but what she feels for him now is muted and overshadowed by the enormity of what she feels for Chat.

It’s incomparable. She thinks Adrien’s amazing, and the way his face crumbled when he thought she didn’t like him showed her that he truly does value her and want her in his life—as a friend. She’s ready to accept that now.

But Marinette is looking at him and her heart is beating normally, and she’s breathing fine, she’s not stuttering or nervous or tripping over herself. He’s in her room, he ate cookies that she baked, she showed him some of her designs and he said he _loved_ them. Not even two months ago she’s sure she would’ve had a heart attack at the fact that he’s in her house alone.

She feels normal, well-balanced and in control. She feels like she finally has her footing in their friendship, being around him and being _coherent_ doesn’t seem impossible, because they’re on equal ground. He’s not a mountain to her anymore, more like a set of stairs she’s still learning to climb. He’s no longer unreachable.

She used to fantasize about his green eyes, but when she looks into his eyes now, all she can think about is Chat.

She misses him so much.

She hasn’t called him because she knows if she does, she’s going to do something stupid. Declare her undying love and reveal her identity all in one breath, and Tikki would give her the lecture of a lifetime.

No one told her loving someone would hurt this much, not in the same way loving Adrien hurt, she knows Chat loves her back.

She loves him more than she thought she could ever love anyone.

They just can’t be together. They’re each other’s weakness, and Hawkmoth knows it. They can’t give him more to use against them.

It hurts worse than getting hit by a train, to realize that she loves Chat and then realize he’s more unreachable than Adrien ever was, and so is she.

Tikki told her she’s supposed to be blessed with good luck; Marinette thinks she’s a liar, because stuff like this doesn’t happen to lucky people.

Chat is too far away for her to hold on to, distant in a way that is finite and unchangeable. But Adrien is right in front of her, and she grabs his hand without thinking.

He startles, mouth falling open. She sends him what she hopes in a reassuring smile.

“I never hated you,” She starts with, “No matter what you thought or whatever I did to make you think I hated you, I promise I never did.”

He deflates, tension leaving him. He squeezes her hand back, “Someone told me some stuff, and I must’ve misunderstood them. I should’ve just talked to you about it first before going off the deep end like that.”

Marinette wants to ask who put the ridiculous idea in his head, but she refrains, because he still looks too unsteady. She feels bad for him, he’s so unused to this, it’s obvious that he’s out of his depth. She blames Adrien’s father for never letting him have a friend that wasn’t handpicked for him.

She rubs soothing circles into his palm, it feels natural. She says softly, “It’s okay. You were trying to make me feel better, to cheer me up. I know you meant well. Apparently, I’m just really terrible when it comes to being pranked. Another friend of mine—” She pauses, ultimately deciding there’s no danger in talking about Chat Noir, as long as she keeps it vague. “He says I need to buy myself a sense of humour. He recommends Amazon.”

She feels rewarded when Adrien laughs freely, loud and uncontained. His smile reaches his eyes, he’s almost glowing.

“Your friend sounds like someone with a great sense of humour,” Adrien comments. Marinette thinks he and Chat would get along like a house on fire.

“He’s obsessed with puns,” She deadpans. “I don’t know if I’d call that great.”

Adrien gasps in mock offense, “Puns are the most sophisticated form of wordplay.”

It’s something Chat has said before, word for word. Marinette clearly has a type.

Something is niggling at her, something familiar, but she ignores it. She grins sunnily back at Adrien, “He says that all the time too, I think you’d really like him. He’s…the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

She notices his expression dims slightly, “Tell me about him,” He says, although his voice is quieter than it was a minute ago.

Marinette wants to call him out on it, but this is the first real conversation they’ve had in weeks and they just dealt with the Grévin Museum mess, and this easiness is new to their friendship. She doesn’t want to accidentally scare him off.

She doesn’t know how much she can say about Chat without it becoming dangerous. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring him up in the first place, seeing as how Adrien looks a little uncomfortable, and Marinette—

She doesn’t really want to talk about Chat, it feels private, what they have is something just the two of them could ever understand. She wants to keep him close to her heart, tucked safe away from everyone else. The two of them belong to each other, it’s not something anyone else should know.

“He’s my favourite person in the world,” She settles on, and if she closes her eyes, she thinks she could imagine him. Adrien looks similar enough. His hand in hers, it feels like Chat’s.

“Oh, I—that’s…” Adrien glances at their joined hands, a strange look crossing his face. “You sound like you—care about him a lot.”

She doesn’t say the L word, that’s for her and Chat only.

“I do,” She says instead, and she can’t help how lovestruck she must sound. Chat would probably make a pun about how she’s finally fallen for him, something along the lines of “ _Knew I was a catch, huh, my Lady?”_

She really needs to see him; this is getting pathetic and tragic in a Romeo and Juliet way. Marinette refuses to be a cliché.

“I’m happy for you,” Adrien says, “I’m happy you—have someone like that. Someone you care about so much.”

Maybe sleep-deprivation is making Marinette delusional, but he doesn’t sound very happy.

Marinette hides her frown, wondering if she accidentally said something wrong. She glances at the window, at the sun shining outside, and immediately knows how she can make it up to him.

“Come on,” She says, getting up from her chair and tugging his hand. He follows her easily. “Let’s go get ice cream, we deserve it for working so hard. My treat, don’t you _dare_ pull your wallet out, Adrien.”

“I wasn’t going to,” He protests, but she sees how his free hand flutters uselessly near his pocket. He grimaces, “At least let me pay for my own.”

“No.”

“How about—”

“No.”

“Mari—”

“Do I have to say it in Chinese?” She demands. She then proceeds to say it in Chinese.

Customers in the bakery stare at her weirdly as she and Adrien come down the stairs, through the back door. She tells her papa where they’re going and that they’ll return in about half an hour. Adrien waves politely to both her parents as they go.

She realizes, halfway to Andre’s ice cream stand, that they’re still holding hands.

She doesn’t let go, and neither does he.

They walk up to Andre’s stand together, hand-in-hand, and Marinette thinks if Alya was here, she’d go into shock or something. Marinette spent so much time agonizing over how to ask Adrien out, and now that she’s here, holding his hand, about to share one of Andre’s love ice creams with him, it feels surreal.

She watches Andre scoop three balls of ice cream onto a chocolate waffle cone. Her heart stops when he hands it to her, because there’s mint chocolate, and the green reminds her inevitably of Chat’s eyes. The chocolate chips remind her of the dark leather of his suit.

She feels extraordinarily pathetic.

“Hold onto your dignity, Marinette,” Tikki whispers from inside her purse, because Tikki is a mind-reader who likes to invade Marinette’s privacy.

The other ice cream flavors are blue raspberry and red velvet chocolate chip. She doesn’t want to start analyzing ice cream, because that feels too close to the deep end of the crazy pool, but she can’t help but hope the blue represents her eyes, and the red velvet represents Ladybug’s suit.

The thing is, this feels like a _her and Chat_ thing, but she’s holding Adrien’s hand, and yet, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable or strange or unnatural.

She pays for the ice cream and Adrien grabs two spoons. He’s leading her towards the street, there’s a park across the intersection where they can sit and talk, and she watches him smile and realizes she’s having a good time. She likes this, this newfound trust between them.

“Hey Marinette,” He throws a wink at her as they wait for the light to turn green. “I like you a _waffle_ lot.”

She’s stunned silent for a half-second before her brain comes back online. His smile is a ray of pure sunshine. She catches herself about to call him _Chat_ and refrains.

“Adrien, that was awful,” She giggles. Then, in a fit of temporary insanity, she winks playfully back at him. “You’re making me _melt_.”

He freezes, something like awe on his face, and it makes her freeze too. Neither of them notices the light turn green and then red again.

Neither of them notices, until she hears screaming.

“ _Jean! Wait, there’s a car coming_!”

Marinette’s Ladybug instincts kick in before she even registers what’s happening. A car is barreling down the street, towards the intersection. A child ran into the middle of the road, and the car is coming too fast to stop in time.

Marinette moves without thinking.

She runs forward in a burst of speed. Adrien shouts her name, but it’s background noise. There’s a child that’s in danger, and she’s Ladybug first, always.

She pulls the child into her arms, and the car is so close its headlights are blinding, and she’s not going to make it in time—

She throws the child to his mother, who is on the other side of the street, screaming at the top of her lungs. She catches her son, her eyes frantic, her expression horrified. She cradles him in her arms and glances up at Marinette, mouthing the words _thank you_ over and over.

Marinette closes her eyes and holds her breath, muscles tensing in anticipation, she wonders how much getting hit by a car is supposed to hurt.

She doesn’t find out, because someone pushes _her_ out of the way.

The car blows by, she’s lying on the pavement, staring up at Adrien’s face. He’s flat on top of her, having fallen when he shoved her out of the way.

He shoved her out of the way of a _moving car_.

The mother of the child she saved rushes over to help them up, along with three other bystanders who were watching. Marinette is pulled into a searing hug, the mother tearfully thanking her for saving her son, and then the child she saved runs over and gives her a hug, too.

Adrien also gets a hug, and the sight of him with a kid in his arms almost makes her go weak-kneed. It reminds her of the aftermath of Gigantitan, seeing Chat rocking August and humming to calm the child down after his Akumatization. It seems Marinette has a thing for guys who are amazing with kids.

After the immediate urgency of the situation dies down, Marinette turns to say something to Adrien, and finds herself in his arms instead.

“I-I thought…” He shudders, arms wound tightly around her. They’re still standing in the middle of the street, so she tugs on his hand to get him moving, but she doesn’t pull away and he refuses to let go of her.

“Adrien, I’m fine.” She adds comfortingly, “Thanks to you. Everything turned out okay—”

“But it almost didn’t,” He says, and his eyes are watery, and Marinette is at a loss for words. She feels viciously protective of him all of sudden, gathering him close to her chest and running her hands soothingly through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” She apologizes, not for saving that child’s life, but for scaring him so badly.

“You—” He inhales shakily. “You _jumped in front of a car_.”

She winces, tilting her head up so she can get a good look at him. He looks distraught.

A revelation hits her.

“You,” She stares into his eyes. “You _followed me_.”

His eyes widen, she can hear his heart beating erratically. Hers feels like its about to explode.

Abruptly, he goes completely still. “Your name,” He whispers, almost inaudibly. “The first three letters are MAR.”

“Y-yes,” She frowns, uncomprehending. The sudden switch in conversation is dizzying, she feels like she’s missing something. She feels off-kilter.

“There are plenty of names that start with MAR. Maria, Marissa, Marisol…” She trails off, usually she’s quick to the connect the dots, but she’s still winded and her adrenaline is crashing and she has the strangest feeling a sword’s about to fall.

His expression crumples, he looks _worse_ than distraught.

He fumbles over his words, which is worrying, because between the two of them Adrien is supposed to be the calm one.

“It has to be you,” He mutters dejectedly, pressing his face into her hair, his chin resting on her collar bone. “There’s no one else who—it _has_ to be you.”

She isn’t understanding. He’s shaking in her arms, and she feels so useless when she all she can do is hold him. She wants to comfort him but she doesn’t know why he’s falling apart like this, she wonders if maybe it’s shock, he did watch her almost get hit by a car, that has to be traumatic—

She put herself in danger to save someone, and he put himself in danger to save her.

It’s painfully familiar. Suddenly, all she can see is—

All she can see is the similarities.

Her entire body seizes up; she doesn’t feel like she can draw in breath.

It’s impossible. There’s no way the only two people she’s ever loved are the same person, that’s—she’s not _that_ lucky

But she has to check, she has to make sure or else she’ll always regret it. Even if Adrien isn’t Chat, she’ll still love her chaton regardless.

Adrien is still clinging to her, and the way he keeps repeating “ _It has to be you”_ resonates differently now. Everything is falling into place, puzzles pieces coming together to form one picture. Two halves coming together to make one person.

She knows it’s risky, but she needs to know. She will never admit it out loud, but she desperately wants it to be him.

She reaches onto her tiptoes and whispers in his ear, “You don’t have to worry about me.” She drops her right hand to meet his, intertwining their fingers. It lines up, he’s wearing a ring. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees its silver.

Her heart in her throat, she goes for it.

“It’ll always be you and me against the world,” She says, and the next thing she knows, he’s kissing her.

It’s fierce and heat-filled, a culmination of all the times they’ve come so close but always turned away at the last second. She’s reminded of Glaciator, the kiss on the cheek he gave her before he left her standing alone on that candlelit rooftop with a rose in her hand. She’s reminded of all the touches that came after. The fist-bumps that became hugs, the way they held each other longer and longer after every Akuma battle. The way they always said _I love you_ before they said goodbye.

Her fourth clue is that kissing him feels a lot like everything clicking into place. The world stops turning.

“I’m having trouble believing this is real,” He mumbles against her lips. “I feel like I’m going to wake up and this’ll just be another dream. You’re always in my dreams, my Lady.”

“If this is a dream,” She says. “I don’t think I want to wake up, chaton.”

He makes a choked sound, half disbelief and half elation. His eyes are dancing and vibrant when he tilts his head back and stares into hers. She kicks herself for never noticing how green they were before.

“Marinette,” He’s never said her name like that. She loves the way it sounds, his smile is blindingly bright. “Princess, you and I are _mint_ to be.”

“You’re _pawful_ ,” She groans, but it’s fond, it’s immeasurably fond. Her chaton laughs and picks her up and spins her around, and then they go buy another ice cream because their first one is splattered somewhere on the street.

He can’t keep his hands off her, he makes puns about everything and anything, he ends up staying the night at her house because she’s missed him terribly this past month and he’s completely unwilling to leave her side after having just found her.

He crawls into her bed, purring softly against her chest. They wrap themselves around each other.

“I found you,” He says, as she’s drifting off. “I think you might be the love of my life.”

She knows they have a lot to talk about, there’s so much they haven’t unpacked yet, but he’s her partner in every way there is; her other half. They’re going to work it out.

They’re unbeatable together.

“I love you too,” She replies.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back,” He apologizes. “Last time.”

She pushes thoughts of Chat bleeding out in her arms from her mind. “You’re saying it now. You’ve been saying it for years, I just wasn’t hearing you.”

In the pitch-blackness of her bedroom, she can’t see his expression. However, she feels him stiffen in her arms.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” He inquires softly. She can hear the guilt in his voice, “I’m the person who broke your heart.”

She remembers a conversation from what feels like a lifetime ago, on her balcony after the incident at the Grévin Museum, and she feels her heartbeat speed up. She hasn’t thought about it in weeks, but the embarrassment and shame from that day still haunts her whenever she sees a mannequin or a statue, and it dawns on her that Adrien told her he loved someone else.

“You didn’t break my heart,” She clarifies. He’s clutching her like a lifeline, as though he thinks this will be what makes her get up and leave him. As though she ever could leave him. “I had a giant crush on you for the longest time, but that day at the museum, I was more embarrassed than heart-broken. I think—” She lets amusement creep into her tone. “I think Chat Noir already had my heart then.”

Adrien relaxes, tension draining away. She presses a kiss to his nose, and his purring intensifies.

“You’ve had my heart from the day we met, my Lady. I don’t want it back.” He says, then, more sheepishly, “The reason I never saw _Marinette_ was because I was so hyper-focused on _Ladybug_ , but you’re incredible in and out of the mask. What you did today—you had that look in your eye. The one you get before you flip off Hawkmoth, or charge an Akuma, or come up with a plan that saves our asses. I saw it and I thought _it had to be you. There’s no one else_.”

“I’m honoured to have your heart, chaton,” Marinette closes her eyes and smiles. “I knew we’d find each other eventually—you’re _purrsistent_ like that.”

“I spent the past few weeks writing a list of every name I could think of that starts with MAR. I couldn’t focus on anything else,” He admits. His hands are playing with her hair, out of her usual pigtails. “I’m useless without you.”

She hugs him close, “Same here, minou. We should just handcuff ourselves together, for the safety of Paris.”

She laughs at how quickly he is to latch onto the idea. “I know a place where we could get handcuffs,” He says eagerly. “I know a guy; he won’t ask questions—”

“I think that’s a conversation for tomorrow, kitty,” Marinette snuggles into him, enjoying his warmth and nearness. This is the closest they’ve ever been, and she knows they’re going to have to be extra careful, and it’s so much more dangerous now that they know who the other is, but all she can think about is how she won’t have to miss him anymore.

“Fine, I’ll find a way to _purrsuade_ you tomorrow.” He lets out a happy sigh. “Goodnight, mon amour.”

Her heart soars, “Goodnight, mon petit chaton. I love you.”

The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is him saying it back.


End file.
